


Rumors

by xLaevateinn



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Male My Unit | Byleth, vague Yuri/Byleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25871176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xLaevateinn/pseuds/xLaevateinn
Summary: Hilda’s exceedingly versatile skills in reconnaissance around the monastery simply meant that when the entire institution exploded with intrigue and rumor about the new—er, old? Former?—students, it hadn’t remotely surprised her. This place went crazy when they added a new dish to the menu in the dining hall, a whole unknown set of people showing up meant pure chaos. Such was life somewhat apart from the rest of the country with little to do after classes but chatter to anyone willing to listen.And, for the most part, Hilda sure was willing to listen.
Relationships: Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Rumors

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has literally no plot and it's loosely based on my experiences playing 3H after getting the DLC (stopping every week to get tea with Yuri and also kicking out some of the Black Eagles to make room for the Ashen Wolves lmao) but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Also, I don't have a beta but. Whatever. It's fine.

As the unofficially official second in command to the Golden Deer, Hilda found herself a well-meaning and avid listening ear to the woes of her companions, colleagues, and friends—and a purveyor of that information. The right-hand woman to the man who subsisted off morsels of facts and fiction spread around Garreg Mach more than the air in his lungs required this from her, in fact. She figured she just had one of those faces; the kind a person would see and feel absolutely compelled to unload “what just happened” in the dining hall to. Not that it didn’t work in her favor—it was rather the opposite.

Claude had the uncanny ability to sort through all the delicious tidbits she’d casually collect and piece them together like a man possessed. In his head! No paper required. Hilda oftentimes pondered as to his inner mechanisms and simply decided knowing wasn’t worth the trouble. To be honest, the task Claude asked of her didn’t even add any extra work to her day. Sit in the sauna or the bathhouse or the dining hall long enough and wait for people to do the hard part for her. A servant’s careless whispering, the Knights’ boasting of a campaign gone well, a fellow student lamenting about some noble or another terrorizing their family.

Most of it made little rhyme or reason to her in a big picture sort of way, though if she was curious enough, she knew Claude would fill her in if she asked. Frankly, the thrill of the hunt gave Hilda as much satisfaction as she needed, along with the most genuine smiles Claude ever gave anyone making her heart thud a little faster each time. She knew Claude had her wrapped around his finger even if he didn’t.

However, Hilda’s exceedingly versatile skills in reconnaissance around the monastery simply meant that when the entire institution exploded with intrigue and rumor about the new—er, old? Former?—students, it hadn’t remotely surprised her. This place went crazy when they added a new dish to the menu in the dining hall, a whole unknown set of people showing up meant pure chaos. Such was life somewhat apart from the rest of the country with little to do after classes but chatter to anyone willing to listen.

And, for the most part, Hilda sure was willing to listen.

“The Professor really does like inviting that Abyssian man to missions, doesn’t he?” It took a moment before Hilda realized someone had taken residence directly beside her in the dining hall, as she stuffed peach sorbet into her face after a rather trying battle near the border of Adrestia and Faerghus. She forced down her dessert with a painful swallow before allowing herself to raise a particularly magnanimous eyebrow towards her companion.

Ferdinand Von Aegir did not return the look as he picked around at his stew, poking at a bit of chicken distractedly, his perfectly arched brows pulled together in the middle in a picturesque vision of contemplation. Her eyes scanned his face, searching fruitlessly for a reason he decided to bother her of all people. “I guess so,” she ventured, scooping a smaller bite of sorbet into her mouth and savoring the taste for a moment. “He’s a good fighter, nice to have in a pinch. At least, it seems that way when he’s fighting with our class.”

“No, that is very true,” Ferdinand agreed, trying and failing several times to scoop a specific chunk of onion out of his bowl before managing it, his expression growing darker with each attempt. “However, it appears the Professor will allow him to take the place of _actual_ students, leaving them wanting for necessary battle experience.” _Ohhhhh_ , Hilda realized, hiding her amused smirk behind her hand until she managed to wrestle her features into something more neutral.

She asked sympathetically, some of her humor lacing her tone unbidden, “Aw, Ferdinand, were you benched by the Professor?”

Red blotches burst under his skin almost immediately, as he turned away quickly, his mouth pressed into an uncomfortable, tight line. “I am sure the Professor believed my prior performance to be more than adequate and decided that—that—” Ferdinand stumbled over his words as he tugged at his collar, still avoiding Hilda’s gaze as she leaned her chin into her palm to watch the different shades his face turned in real time. With an aggressive cough to clear his throat, Ferdinand continued, “I know there was a perfectly reasonable—reason for his decision that I’m not privy to.”

Hilda smiled broadly. “Oh, I’m sure there was Ferdinand. Don’t worry too much about it.” His expression made it quite clear that he would more than likely spend a lot of time worrying about it.

Despite prior experience to the contrary, Hilda hoped Ferdinand’s disapproval of the new students from the underground to be the extent of the discussion. In fact, his experiences made Hilda a little annoyed that Professor Byleth never benched _her_ when she’d begged him for weeks to do just that. The thought made her resent the new students, maybe just a little bit.

“Oh, Hilda, I didn’t see you!”

A soft voice caught her ear, and she turned to see Marianne standing awkwardly behind her, one foot facing the way she came as if to bolt if the opportunity presented itself. Bits of hay and horsehair poked from her braids and coupled with her generally disheveled appearance, Hilda imagined she probably just returned from the stables. With a smile, Hilda patted the spot on the grass beside her in an easy invitation and, to her surprise, Marianne accepted.

A calm silence enveloped them, as Hilda leaned back on her open palms to enjoy the breeze wafting through the warm air of the budding summer months. The fading scent of blooms barely floated along, but she still picked out the lingering traces of anemones blooming wild around Garreg Mach. “It’s Sunday, isn’t it?” Hilda asked after a moment, opening one eye to glance at her friend’s slightly pinched expression. “Was it your turn to take care of the horses? Didn’t you do that Friday?”

“I did,” she murmured, pressing her hands together as she avoided Hilda’s gaze. “But I overheard an argument while I was visiting Dorte, and the usual stable boy was so angry he left without finishing feeding the rest of the horses.” Her frown became more pronounced and Hilda sat forward, brushing the grass from her hands.

Shaking her head, Hilda sighed, “So you took it upon yourself to do it, right?”

Marianne flushed. “Of course, I couldn’t let them go hungry!” She anxiously smoothed out her skirt over her knees, picking at raised heraldry absently. “But I didn’t do it all by myself, one of the new students that Professor Byleth invited to class helped me a lot! He was quite kind to me.” Marianne brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin atop with a bemused frown.

Grasping for the thread of their conversation, Hilda prompted, “And, you didn’t want him to?”

“No, that’s not it,” she replied, continuing to dodge Hilda’s scrutinizing gaze. “I didn’t mind it, actually. He didn’t make me talk, except when he asked Dorte’s name and he was so good with the horses I didn’t have to worry at all.” A moment passed, and a tiny, grateful smile graced Marianne’s lips. “Even though so many were against them being here, and judged them without knowing anything about them, they haven’t really done anything to deserve that did they?”

Hilda bit her lip and leaned back again, staring absently at a particularly fluffy cloud just overhead. “No, I guess you’re right, Marianne. No one deserves that.”

A book slammed to Hilda’s right and she jumped several inches out of her seat in shock, her heart leaping into her throat. For the first time in ages, Hilda took it upon herself to go to the library and—ugh—study. Professor Byleth telling her she had ‘potential’ and was wasting her ‘natural born abilities’ gave her some kind of bizarre motivation to do well in school. But, of course, the day she decided to move forward with her formal education in a constructive manner meant that there would be an annoyance waiting to happen.

“Did you really have to set it down that hard?” she complained loudly, lamenting the large, black splotch of ink currently sinking into the parchment that, at one point, constituted as her homework. Hilda unleased to full force of her glare, complete with an annoyed cross of her arms over her chest as she eyed the source of the noise.

“Sorry, Hilda, didn’t meant to scare you!” Ashe replied, aghast, as several more tomes tumbled out of his overloaded arms onto the floor of the library. “I lost my grip on that one, I’ll be more careful not to interrupt you!” Not that she would admit it to Ashe, Hilda was looking for the perfect excuse to ignore her history essay for Hanneman, and instead leaned back in her chair, watching as he scrambled to stack the honestly absurd number of books he’d gathered from around the shelves.

She frowned. “Do you really need all those, anyway?”

With a smile, Ashe placed the stack down gently and wrung out his hands. “Oh, yes! I’m actually getting these for Linhardt. He’s quite caught up today, he says, and asked me to give him a hand gathering information for him.” A minute frown tugged at the corners of Ashe’s mouth and he rubbed the back of his neck for a moment. “Though, to be honest, he didn’t really tell _what_ he wanted. So, I just grabbed everything I could find on Crestology to bring back.”

Hilda eyed the towering pile blankly. “Well, good luck with that then, Ashe.” She turned back to her essay promptly, pretending not to hear Ashe’s grunts as he struggled through the library door to head back to the stairs. Daintily dunking her quill back into her ink, she started to write about the founding of Faerghus once again.

“HILDA!”

Shrieking, Hilda’s quill dashed across the parchment in a thick, dark line. She spun in her chair, her heart thrumming in her chest. “ _What_ do you _want_ Caspar?” she demanded, snapping her quill in half as she gripped her hands into fists.

Grinning, Caspar waved his hand vaguely. “Not you, not you! Where’s Ashe? He asked me to meet at the library, but I just got finished with my kitchen duties with Yuri so I’m a little late. Did ya see him?” Yuri? She paused as her brain processed that name. Oh, the new guy. The Abyssian. The man that wasn’t Balthus.

“Yuri is doing chores for the Church?” she asked in wonder, forgetting her dismal excuse for an essay.

Caspar shrugged with his entire body in a languid motion. “I guess the Professor asked him to. He was in class today, and when chores were being assigned Yuri and me got stuck with kitchen duty. Though…” He tilted his head and pressed a hand against his hair. “Though he pretty much did everything himself. I chopped a few carrots and grabbed a few spices, then Yuri went crazy making this insane steak dinner for everyone. You should really go try some, that guy can really cook.”

Even though Hilda preferred living on the second floor of the dormitories at Garreg Mach, sometimes the creaking of the wooden stairs and the slats in the hallway outside of her room made her uneasy. Not in a fearful-of-the-supernatural sort of way, since ghosts didn’t top the list of things that scared her and besides, if they were real, why would they decide to haunt her of all people? More so in a I-hope no-one-tries-to-break-in kind of way. Frankly, any robber targeting Garreg Mach would have trouble no matter whose room they broke into given that every single student here had extensive experience in at least one weapon or magic.

Though Hilda really did _not_ want to get into a scuffle so late at night, the creaking outside of her room had gone from somewhat distracting to downright infuriating. She stared at her ceiling, praying to the Goddess with a promise that she’d pay better attention in class if the person who insisted on skulking through the hallway so late at night would just go to sleep. With a long-suffering groan, Hilda dragged herself out from under her warm, comfortable sheets, checked her mirror to ensure she at least looked marginally presentable, and threw her door open with a loud bang.

Large, blue eyes stared back at her as Annette froze stark still in the hallway and Hilda rubbed her face momentarily before releasing a loud sigh. “Annette? Why are you out here? It’s super late!” Her orange hair tumbled around her face out of its customary loops, giving Annette an even more frazzled appearance than usual.

“I-I…!” she stammered, clutching a jacket around her shoulders and averting her gaze to the floorboards beneath her feet. “I was walking back from the cathedral with Mercie because she wanted to pray, b-but I realized I forgot my handkerchief!” Her words rushed together almost incomprehensibly, and Hilda struggled to keep up as Annette bowled on. “S-so I went back to get it and when I got there, I heard something in there! Like someone singing! But no one was there!” The increased octaves of her voice threatened to crack the glass windows and Hilda waved her hands impatiently between them.

“So, what are you trying to say? That there’s a singing ghost in the cathedral?”

“ _Yes_.”

Hilda frowned. “And you’re saying not a single person stayed after you left?”

“W-well, Yuri was there but he left around the same time we did! I was all alone, I swear!”

And so, Hilda found herself accompanying Annette in the dead of night through the grounds towards the bridge that led to the cathedral. A cloudless sky greeted them with the sight of thousands of stars visible from the path, the deep blues and purples of the night speckled with glimmering dots of light. While the occasional guard meandered through, no one paid them any mind as Annette clutched Hilda’s sleeve, nearly tripping them both several times walking on the backs of Hilda’s boots.

The sounds of their footsteps echoed in the quiet night as they reached the gate and headed towards the entrance. All the pews sat empty, their ancient wood a testament to the longstanding monastery of nearly a thousand years. Though the torches burned low in their braces, Hilda barely made out the outlines of the pillars holding the vast, arched ceiling above them. She pressed a hand along the nearest pew, her palm jumping to the next and the next until they reached the front of the room.

She asked, “Where did you leave it, Annette?” A sacred atmosphere surrounding them left Hilda’s voice in a whisper, and she turned to see her friend sliding her hands along the seat of the nearest bench.

“Somewhere around here.” An unnerving silence filled the air and Hilda felt a little disappointed that she wouldn’t get the experience this so-called ghost for herself. “Aha! I found it.” Annette raised the cloth in her hand triumphantly and Hilda sighed in relief.

“Okay, let’s get out of here. I’m getting a little creeped out, now.” They made their way back in the same awkward, haphazard manner, following along the edges of the pews until they finally reached the large gate housing the entrance of the cathedral. As Hilda followed Annette down the stone steps towards the bridge, she huffed, “There was no singing! It was perfectly normal.”

With a flush, Annette shook her head. “I’m positive, I wouldn’t lie about that!” Their whispered argument captured their full attention as both failed to notice the lavender haired man sitting atop the raised walls of the staircase leading down to the dorms, watching them go.

The first thing Hilda planned to do after the mock skirmish with the soldiers from the Fraldarius territory was take a long, hot, and well-deserved bath. Sweat soaked clothes stuck to her skin, and her hair might be considered its own separate ecosystem with the sheer amount of rocks and dirt and grass housed in each pigtail. She tossed her axe unceremoniously into a wagon with a loud clang and began the long, tedious process of finger combing her thick hair as she waited for the rest of the group to return to their caravan.

Of course, the day she forgot to bring a hairbrush was the day Hilda would be front and center with the Professor, drawing a number of soldiers to their position as he corrected her form and instructed her in using a Combat Art she’d learned a few days prior. She plopped down on a large, flat rock alongside the main road through Faerghus that led back to Garreg Mach from Felix’s family’s territory, and absently kicked at the twigs at her feet as she worked through a particularly nasty knot.

“That looks really terrible, no offense.” Bristling, Hilda turned around, and realized that Yuri stood behind her, his own hair perfectly framing his pretty face. Though his coarse words didn’t match his image one bit.

“Well consider me offended,” she bit back with a frown, turning away from him again as she fought with a knot close to the back of her head. A breathy, sharp sigh sounded behind her and she felt a pair of hands swat her fingers away with a light tap.

Yuri answered, unperturbed, “You can be offended all you like, but you’re gonna lose your hair if you keep yanking at it like that. Let me do it.” Before she could reply, Yuri tugged her hair free from the strings holding her pigtails in place, clicking his tongue disapprovingly as the locks tumbled around her shoulders. “This really is a mess,” he murmured, so quiet Hilda wondered if he meant her to even hear, and she felt a brush tugging through the very ends of her hair, easing out the knots from the bottom up.

Hilda waved her hand. “If the Professor would just let me sit out for once, this wouldn’t happen.” A short laugh erupted behind her and she resisted the urge to check because wow, someone else brushing her hair was kind of relaxing.

“I can’t speak for the Professor,” Yuri said in amusement. “But I think that may possibly defeat the purpose of his job as a teacher.”

After a moment of thought, Hilda conceded. “You know, that’s fair.” The rest of their class and the soldiers trickled back in small groups, laughing and carrying on amongst each other as they recounted the throes of the battle. Hilda watched them as they loaded up their weapons and grabbed some fast snacks, this easy camaraderie leaving her a little uneasy in a way she didn’t know how to explain. Before her jumbled thoughts coalesced into a full picture, Yuri scooped her hair up deftly in two quick twists and tied her pigtails back into place.

“All done,” he announced, patting her shoulder before taking a heavy seat beside her on the rock. A comfortable silence drifted between them as they watched the caravan pack up anything they didn’t need to camp for the night and start to hand out tents and sleeping rolls. Hilda bit her lip, eyeing a purpling bruise on the arm of one of the Fraldarius men that she’d fought only an hour earlier, suddenly imagining a gaping wound, a missing hand, a festering gash with no hope of salvaging.

“It’s weird isn’t it?” Hilda asked, not really expecting any response but giving in to the uncontrollable urge to voice her thoughts. “I know this wasn’t a real fight, that we’re not in the middle of a war, but these fake battles always leave me kind of empty afterwards. I can’t really figure out why.”

Yuri twisted a lock of hair between his fingers for a moment, the fiery light of the setting sun reflecting in his lavender eyes. The acrid scent of several newly lit campfires filled the area, soon followed by the satisfying smells of meats of all varieties cooking. The chatter continued around them, all running together into one undifferentiated din of voices.

Nothing at all like the real thing, Hilda mused, leaning her chin into her palm. Since everyone lived to see dinner.

“No, that makes sense,” he replied after a spell when Hilda already gave up on it, startling her. “I see what you mean. Almost like we’re playing at war, little tin soldiers jostled along at the whims of an unseen puppeteer, with our toy swords and spears and axes.” He tapped a finger against his glossy lips, and Hilda followed his gaze down the path until she saw Professor Byleth striding towards them with the rest of the Golden Deer. “Kind of makes you wonder what the point of it all is, doesn’t it?”

As Hilda wet her lips to respond, Yuri stood from their shared rock and sauntered up to the Professor as he dismissed her classmates, pressing a hand against Byleth’s shoulder in greeting. As their gazes met, Hilda glanced away, unable to parse the sensation of seeing a private exchange that she shouldn’t have.

The clamoring crowd at the stalls in front of Garreg Mach tended to dissuade Hilda from making any purchases during the high times of the day. Shoving elbows and shouting merchants trying to pawn off their many wares onto the shoppers usually left her with a headache for hours, but sometimes it was unavoidable. She’d noticed with water already boiled and cups set out in her room that her jar of rose petal tea was completely empty—she cursed her past self for being too lazy to get more.

Now Hilda stood in line. Waiting. And waiting. And waiting. The sun burned hot overhead and beads of sweat dotted her hairline and more slid uncomfortably down her spine. “What’s taking so long?” someone behind her grumbled, mirroring her exact thoughts, and she leaned over to peer around until she caught sight of the front of the line.

“Oh,” she mouthed, surprised, as Professor Byleth stood with a hand caging his chin, eyebrows furrowed together in contemplation as he examined the choices of tea before him. Hilda was able to make out merchant’s annoyed expression from where she stood, and with an apologetic wave she skipped to the front to join her Professor. “Having trouble?” she asked cheerfully as she forced herself between Byleth and the stall to gather his attention.

“Hilda.” His voice remained neutral, but the uncertain expression remained the same. “Oh, while you’re here…” Professor Byleth’s eyes met Hilda’s in determination. “Which tea do you think someone that is—well rather…” Hesitantly, Byleth lifted his hands to gesture vaguely between them, words tumbling around in his mouth as he tried to explain what he was looking for.

Chewing on her lip to keep from laughing, Hilda asked, “Is it for Yuri?”

His hands dropped to his sides immediately, and if Hilda didn’t know better, she could have sworn a gentle flush of pink overtook his cheeks. “Yes. It is.”

Tapping her fingers against her chin, Hilda turned back to the selection and swiftly plucked a bag from the stand both out of a keen eye for tea and also out of a desperation to get back into the cool interior of her room. “Try this one,” she hummed, pressing the honeyed fruit tea into Byleth’s hand before grabbing what she came for and pressing her own coins into the hands of the merchant. “Yuri seems like the type to have refined tastes for tea, I think he’ll like it.”

Before she turned away, she saw a tiny glimpse of a smile overtake Byleth’s features and Hilda froze in surprise. “Thank you, Hilda,” he said gratefully, handing over his coins and examining the delicate bag of tea leaves in his hand as if he held a newly discovered Hero’s Relic. As she tried to respond, Byleth strode off with long, purposeful strides, nearly hopping the steps towards the front entrance of Garreg Mach. She watched him go with wide eyes, wondering if a guy would ever take that kind of consideration with her.

Yuri Leclerc was no stranger to the intrigue and gossip that encompassed him. In fact, he encouraged it, he welcomed it. Any outlandish yarn about himself or his capabilities or his body count only helped his disreputable façade and increased his options to keep Abyss safe. The Savage Mockingbird could gut you faster than you could draw your weapon, lighten your pockets hundred gold pieces more easily than a brothel. For every ridiculous tale of stealing away men’s wives in the dead of night, or breaking into a house for jewels without a trace, there was one that rang true, though the best part was his enemies trying to figure out which those were.

Not that it mattered since many of the rumors spread about him were false and most of the truth was not discussed in rumor. While, by his own design, this left much of his true nature somewhat of a mystery to everyone, Yuri admitted that left him a bit lonely.

But…

 _Out of necessity_ , he’d remind himself as he swiftly unloaded a scroll of cyphered information from a knight at the market, pocketing his find with no one any the wiser.

 _Absolute necessity_ , he’d scold silently while tossing a set of loaded dice as he gambled for an extra sack of flour at the market.

 _Complete necessity_ , he’d agree as he composed a letter threatening to divulge an interesting oversight in the taxes paid by a young baron that would leave him destitute if discovered.

Besides, Yuri’s varied interests assisted him with developing a large set of skills he acquired out of necessity to survive in this unforgiving world. Some were less than savory; subterfuge, espionage, blackmail. Others were easily passed off as necessary survival skills; magic, swordplay, horsemanship. Even more were those that Yuri refined simply because he wanted to; cooking, makeup, singing. All these talents combined with an innate gift for charm and flattery created a large part of the final draft that Yuri accepted as wholly and completely himself, for better or for worse. He didn’t consider himself more righteous than the average man—no, Yuri was simply a person trying his best survive in the world he’d been born into, in any way he could.

Sometimes that meant telling a few lies, stabbing a few distasteful men, tricking a couple of scummy, lowlife merchants out of their gold. Maybe Yuri wouldn’t be at the top of the Goddess’s good list, but he was determined not to be on her bad one. Besides, if Sothis _did_ want to confine him to the depths of hell for taking care of his mother and making sure the elderly ate real food, that was her business, wasn’t it? 

The point of the matter was Yuri lived his life on his own terms. Unequivocally. He made his own rules, decided his own moral code, and stuck to them unflinchingly even in the face of absolute peril. Until now, that certainty kept him alive, kept him fed and clothed and warm, with a few spare coins in his pockets for frivolity if he saw fit. Yuri’s thoughts revolved completely around Abyss—how to take care of his people and keep them safe from even the far-reaching arm of the Church if necessary.

Yuri saw himself in the sickly gazes of the infirm, in the uncertain pain the orphaned children struck in his heart, in the hatred those who chose to live underground held for anyone from above. All of it Yuri understood as if it were his own—because it _was_. Surface dwellers of all castes and from all backgrounds would never truly belong in Abyss.

Or so Yuri always thought.

The light of the nearest torch burned low as he’d put off changing it out for a fresh one for several hours now, staring absently at the aged notebook in his hand. Yuri hadn’t written anything new, but still he didn’t have the ability to place it aside either. His mind wandered as he idly tapped his fingers in a simple rhythm against his desk, eyes tracing the letters of each name on the most recent page. Fresh names, familiar faces left the most painful impression of loss. Even if Yuri didn’t know them well, knowing that the name written belong to a person no longer among the living drew a peculiar emotion from the depths of his heart.

His body felt another presence before his mind registered, as he instinctively slid a knife from his sleeve into his waiting palm. Boots thudded along the underground walkways, echoing in the near silence in the falling evening of Abyss. His heart thudded in his chest, waiting for the steps to continue on past their makeshift classroom, and clutched the knife tighter as his visitor entered the room instead. “Yuri.” A familiar voice reached his ears, and he turned to see Byleth standing in the doorway, something clutched in his hands.

Yuri quickly sheathed his dagger back in his sleeve and stood from the bench with his most welcoming smile.

“Oh, it’s you, friend,” he greeted, warmth blooming in his chest as Byleth made his way through the lopsided, decrepit benches and desks that filled the room. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today? Sorry I didn’t make it up for a lecture, lots to do, you know.”

Byleth nodded, serious as always, his handsome face stoic as if chiseled from stone. “Would you like to have tea with me?” he asked, holding out a packet of tea in his overturned palm, deep blue eyes boring into Yuri’s with intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.

Yuri laughed, sidestepping Byleth’s hand and moved along the edge of his personal space, tilting his head to the side as he gazed up at Byleth’s face. “You came all the way here for that again? You must really have way too much free time, weren’t you just here last week?” Of course, Yuri was teasing, but Byleth’s cheeks lit up and his hand dropped an inch, faltering. _Oh, he’s too adorable_ , Yuri lamented with a sigh, snatching the tea from Byleth’s hand with an exaggerated wink. “You know I always have time for you, friend. Have a seat, I’ll get some water.”

For a moment Byleth faltered, hands hanging by his sides as he watched Yuri move. “Thank you,” he said earnestly, finally sliding into the rickety chair nearest Yuri’s desk with his hands folded in his lap. Yuri plucked the strings of the packet of tea with unfairly high expectations for Byleth’s tastes. With a pause, he smelled it again, holding the packet close to his face, letting the scent of honey overtake him for a moment before turning back to Byleth.

“Did you know this is my favorite tea?” Yuri asked curiously, tying the packet back up to keep the leaves fresh before brewing.

Byleth’s eyebrows raised slightly, and Yuri realized he was looking at the first surprised expression he’d ever seen the man wear. “Hilda said you must have refined taste and suggested that one.” Yuri laughed, placing the packet down on his desk as he stood before Byleth with a hand against own hip.

“Hilda, huh? I’ll have to thank her later, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> My Twitter is @xLAEVATElNN :3


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